Mated to the Grumpy Alpha

Chapter 6

CIARA | CORBETT’S LANDING

I GOT AS FAR AS “YOUR.” THEN I FELT HIM BRACE FOR IT.

His whole body went tight under my palm. He shut his eyes and turned his face away. I’ve seen dogs do that when they know the needle is coming.

He wasn’t ready to be free of me. He was getting ready to be hurt.

I took my hand off his chest. “No. You don’t get to make me do your dirty work.”

Jonah sat down hard on the grass and laughed. It came out shaky, close to a sob.

“Oh, thank God.” He wiped his face. “I thought I was going to have to carry him home in pieces.”

“I’m still angry,” I told him. “I want that clear.”

“Be as mad as you want. Just do it to his face.”

Declan didn’t say anything. He held on to my sweater tighter, and soon he was asleep again.

“I’ll take the first watch,” Jonah said.

“You’ll go home and sleep. I’ve got him.”

I spent the rest of the night in Gran’s wicker chair. I told myself I was guarding my porch and not the man on it.

***

At six he was on his feet with some colour back in his face.

“I’m driving you to work,” he said.

“My car’s at Ferris’s. I’ll walk.”

“It’s four miles and you’re wearing clogs.” He was already holding the passenger door of his truck open. “Get in, Ciara.”

“Do you ever ask for anything?”

“I’m asking now. Get in.”

The truck was old and green, and it smelled of coffee and dog. There was a booster seat in the back with a cracker stuck to it.

“This is Betsy,” he said. He patted the dashboard.

“You named your truck?”

“She’s been more reliable than most people.”

We got to the clinic lot before it happened. Then the shakes hit him so hard the keys rattled in the ignition. He pulled into the far corner by the cedars and gripped the wheel with both hands.

“Give me your hand,” I said.

“Not enough.” His jaw was clenched. “I need…”

He didn’t finish. He took me by the waist and pulled me over the gearshift into his lap. I landed sideways with my knees against the door and my face in his neck, and the shaking stopped.

“I’m sorry,” he said into my hair. He didn’t sound sorry at all. “I can’t let go of you right now.”

“Then we’re doing this properly.” I dug the sign invoice out of my bag, the only paper I had. “If I’m sitting on you, I’m writing rules.”

“You’re going to write rules on my lap.”

“Watch me.” I used his chest as a desk. “One. You have until the Hunt Moon, and then I choose out loud. Nobody chooses for me first.”

“Five weeks.” His thumb moved on my hip. “You should know about Clause Nine. An Alpha with no mate by the Hunt Moon gets one picked for him by the Council.”

My pen stopped. “Picked by who?”

“Silas. They already have someone in mind.”

I didn’t like that, and I didn’t like how much I didn’t like it.

“Two,” I said loudly. “You court me the normal way. Dinner and flowers, and you ask before you do anything. Three. If I ever sleep under your roof, I get my own room with a lock.”

“Done.”

“Four.” I wrote it carefully. “No kissing.”

He read it upside down over my shoulder with his mouth right against my ear. “It isn’t signed yet.”

“That doesn’t matter, Declan.”

“It matters to me.”

I turned my head to tell him off, and he kissed me.

It wasn’t polite. Five days of hunger went into it, and he was done pretending.

His hand slid into my hair and tipped my head back. I dropped the pen.

“Declan,” I said. It was supposed to be a warning. It came out sounding more like please.

I should have pushed him away. I grabbed his shirt in both fists and kissed him back instead.

“This is term four,” I said against his mouth.

“Unsigned.” He kissed my jaw. “Tell me to stop.”

I didn’t tell him anything. Betsy’s windows started to fog, and his hand slid under the hem of my scrub top. It spread hot and flat against my back.

I made a sound I’d never made in my life. He answered it with a growl I felt in my teeth.

Someone banged on the driver’s window.

“Doors open at eight!” Nancy yelled through the glass. She was holding two coffees and grinning. “Hi, Aisle Four! Hi, Mr. Grumpy!”

I scrambled off his lap so fast I kicked the gearshift. Declan didn’t move at all. He just wiped his mouth with his thumb and looked at me.

“Term four,” I said. I could barely breathe. “Signed. Right now.”

I found the pen on the floor mat and signed hard enough to tear the paper. Then I added a line underneath.

“One hundred dollars a kiss,” I read out. “That’s the fine.”

He counted five twenties out of his wallet and tucked them into the front pocket of my scrubs. His fingers stayed there a second too long.

“Paid,” he said.

“That is not how fines work!”

“Then don’t make them so cheap.” He took the pen and added his own line in square capitals. “If you’re scared, you call me. Day or night, and it’s free.”

He wrote his phone number under it. I added mine because my hands needed something to do.

“Move up to the Long House,” he said. “Tonight.”

“No.”

“Ansel knows where you live. Somebody broke your salt line for him once already. Up there, forty people would stand between you and him.”

“And Dustin would show me the spoon trick, I suppose.”

“He would. He’s been practising.”

“And you’d get a whole night’s sleep.” I pointed the pen at him. “You need me to rest. That isn’t the same as wanting me.”

“It’s both,” he said. He said it flat and plain. My face went hot again.

“Still no. Term five says my house is mine, and you signed it.”

“Then keep your grandmother’s chain somewhere safer than a dish by the door.”

“How do you know about the dish?”

“I’ve been on your porch four nights, Ciara. I know where everything in that front hall is.”

***

Nancy waited until noon. Then she leaned on the supply room doorframe with her arms crossed.

“So,” she said. “Term four?”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“Honey, the whole lot heard that. Mrs. Kowalski thought somebody’s dog was in distress.”

“We were discussing terms.”

“With your tongues?” She pointed at me. “Your lip is still swollen. And there’s a hundred dollars sticking out of your pocket.”

“That’s a fine. He broke a rule.”

“Then I hope he breaks it every day. We need a new autoclave.”

I texted Theo at lunch so I wouldn’t have to think. Friday’s a yes. Tell your mom I’m bringing wine.

Ferris dropped my Corolla in the clinic lot at four. Nancy walked out with me at five, still teasing me. Then she stopped talking.

There was dust on my hood from the gravel road. Someone had pressed a paw print into the middle of it, as big as my open hand. One of the toes was cut short.

“Is that a dog?” Nancy whispered.

“No. It’s the wolf from Monday.”

“The one in the lot? Ciara, who’s Sunday?”

“Not who,” I said. “When.”

Beside the print, somebody had written a word in the dust with one fingertip. The letters were neat and careful, and somehow that was the worst part.

SUNDAY.